


Home, Home on the Range

by Anonymous



Series: Pie with Dean Filling [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Facials, M/M, Multi, Pure smut guys, Sub Dean, dean in dresses, gangbangs, no cowboys were hurt in the making of this fic, nonlinear storytelling, trail hand practices are completely fake here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs to get cash, Sam is at summer camp, and Dad is awol again. Newspapers in Wyoming have interesting adverts. </p><p>Just a little Brokeback Mountain not-romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home, Home on the Range

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a good friend of mine, and is complete crack. This was spawned because of two conversations and my filthy mind. love you darling, you know who you are!
> 
> I am inflicting this on all of you without a beta and I am NOT sorry.

Spring was just giving way to summer, and Sammy was out of his classes for now. Dean had found him a summer camp that lasted for the whole summer, nearly four months of being in one place, and Sammy wanted to go, which was a plus. 

He could barely afford it, was the problem. Dad was off on a Hunt again, and Dean didn’t really want to deal with the man for a while. So he looked for summer work, counting on one of the ranch jobs to cover what he needed for Sam. It would have to be enough, and if he was very lucky, he might be able to stretch it further.

The newspaper advert was sort of bland. “Needed, one person of reasonable attractiveness to run chuck duties with long-range drive team. Duties to be discussed in-person interview. Must be d/d free.” and the tag on it was a whole /hundred grand/. 

Dean called the number and set up an interview. 

\-----------------------------

Ralph was an older guy, with sharp blue eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. He outlined the job with an almost clinical air, which Dean appreciated. 

“You’re applying to be the camp cocksuck, son.” he said, eyeing Dean with a critical air. “Mostly, we hire on womenfolk for this, since it keeps morale up and is worth it, in the long run. Keeps the men from getting into fights, from making rookie mistakes. Means that you’d be spending a lot of time fucking and not much time anything else, you do your job right.” and Dean meets his eyes. 

“Sir, I sucked worse cock than these, I got desperate enough.” and he tilts his head, letting some of his sly arrogance slip out, just enough to get this man to /want/ to knock him down a peg. “I think I can earn my keep here.” and he means to. A hundred grand isn’t something to scoff at. 

After a conversation with the trail headman, and a good half-hours spent on his knees, Dean has the job. 

\-------------------------------------

The job starts out as he expected. The guys do their work, and Dean handles the camp. Chuck wagon gets broken down, and Dean is told that they’re three weeks here. He sets up his little tent, the inflatable mattress getting clean sheets and a laundry line set up between a pair of posts. 

The first man who comes up to Dean looks him over, and tells him to wear some lipstick or something, so he don’t look like he’s fucking a boy, pretty as he may be. Dean slides the red over his lips and the blush on his cheeks and its slow and easy, messy enough to be good for the other guy but Dean doesn’t have to choke on it. 

After that, they keep telling him to keep the makeup on, call him Doll and Darling and pretty as a georgia peach in summertime, from one guy who likes to hold Dean down and make him gasp. Dean wears the makeup all the time now, rolling his eyes when the guys slap his ass. 

He cooks, rich chilies and soups and stews, baked casseroles and a rich gumbo with river fish that makes one man nearly break out in tears its so spicy. They like that he keeps the camp neat, with almost military precision. 

The first week one of them runs out of clean socks, and Dean puts his foot down. “If I’m gonna have you fucking me, you’re damn well wearing clean boxers beforehand.” he gripes at them over dinner. “Get all your dirty laundry in that tub or so help me I’m gonna dump /perfume/ on your asses.” and they laugh and one of the men drags him in for a dirty kiss, leaving Dean to get his work done before he makes his real living. 

He spends at least three hours a night after the sun goes down but before bed getting fucked. The guys have all different tastes, but they all make sure he isn’t hurting, they aren’t into making him ache for hours. Rolling around in his tent is fun in a way sex hasn’t been since his cherry got popped just after his birthday. 

He gets a reputation for being a fun lay, rather than making it a chore. He likes the guys, jokes and laughs with them, and they constantly tease him about being their wife. They share him between them sometimes, splitting him wide and making him moan, getting him off on their cocks because godamn, its nice to have a warm, willing ass sometimes. 

\--------------------------

Once a week is the supply run into town. Two of the guys are given a list in Deans neat handwriting, and told that if they don’t get everything on that list, Dean will personally kick their asses. They come back with a box full of dresses that a store had been about to chuck, on account of the dresses coming in way too big. Dean ends up with six plaid and polka-spotted cotton dresses, and an apron to go over them, and he laughs at them and tells them to go to hell, but. 

But he goes about the next day in one of them, a pretty and green plaid one with his sleeves rolled up, and he likes the surprised look on the trail hands faces when he lets his too-long hair blow around a bit. Seducing them now, instead of just waiting for them to fuck him. 

The trail headman fucks him against the chuck wagons wall, calling him pretty and telling him he’s the best camp bitch he’s ever had, and they’re doing much better on the schedule than usual. Dean grunts in satisfaction, because getting this job done sooner means moving on to the next one. 

On the days that Dean does his best work, he gets up in the morning, has his coffee and makes breakfast, biscuits and bacon and eggs, with gravy over everything. He kisses each of the hands goodbye and tells them to have a good day. lunch sandwiches packed in their saddlebags. 

They get back to base camp, and Dean has dinner waiting in the cookpot, with whiskey laid out and a smile in place as he finishes hanging the last of his dresses on the laundry line. He’s wearing nothing but a skimpy little yellow and black lace tank top, and matching lacy underwear. 

They take turns fucking him that night, and some of them come back for seconds. They put Dean to bed and Dean makes it a Sunday tradition. He ends up with whiskerburn and hickeys and is generally happy and fucked out. The men don't end up with hangovers, and Dean gets a bonus in his paycheck for showing initiative. 

He’s not expecting the invitation to another contract, at a different ranch they’ve got scheduled in a month. 

\----------------------  
After he starts wearing the dresses, the guys start asking him to do other things than just let them fuck him a bit. One guy has Dean mend one of his shirts for ten bucks, another guy starts drinking his coffee with Dean in the early pre-dawn mornings, not saying anything but just being nice. 

He gets a box of condoms and a string of pearls from one guy, who offers it as a joke but Dean wears them just to get a rise out of the men, and it ends in a campfire ring of blowjobs, messy facials all around to christen his new jewelry. Turns out the guy really likes rubbing his come into Deans face. 

After that, the fucking changes again. Dean gets held down with wide, gentle hands. Treated a bit like a girl but not like a bitch. One guy likes to mark his shoulder and neck as he fucks into him, and Dean comes when the guy does, whimpering into his pillow because of that broad hand on his chest, playing with his nipples. 

It becomes a competition between the guys after a while, who can make Dean the craziest. Dean rides cock like some of the guys ride broncs and steers, the whole time moaning like the whore he is. He keeps an eye on their stress levels and fucks the tension and lonliness out of them. 

He still has his place in the kitchen, still wears his six cotton dresses, and the weeks roll on. 

\------------------------------

At the end of the summer, Dean packs his dresses and jewelry and makeup into a box, and mails it to himself in one of his storage units. The trail headman gives Dean his number and a hundred fifty thousand dollars cash, and tells him to call him up next summer. Aint never had a job run smooth like that before, according to him. 

Dad comes back just enough times to get drunk and get his ammo money, and Dean turns seventeen with money in the bank and Sammy in one place. He convinces his dad that rural wyoming is a good enough place to operate out of, for a couple years. While Sam is in school. 

Dad never asks how he gets his money, and Dean won’t tell him. Not even when Sam goes off to college, paid for by Dean, because Dean takes him up on his offer for six more years.


End file.
